Fullmetal Alchemist: Virtues
by Clarisara
Summary: "Please," she whispered, "Please end me." Mustang lifted his trembling hands as he stared hatefully at the homunculus at his feet...but he could not bring his hands together to kill her. Why couldn't he kill her? RM X OC
1. Prologue

**Maybe I am a glutton for punishment. I am not even sure where I want to take this thing, but I had an idea come to me as I finished watching Full Metal Alchemist: Brotherhood. I have no guarantees about this idea, but I thought, why not? **

**Here is the prologue. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Ed or Al or anyone else in FMA...which is terrible.**

Screams rent the air of the dead city, echoing in the unnatural stillness. The corpses of men, women, and children all lay wide-eyed, left to rot where they fell the day before. Only in the palace at the city's center was anyone alive. A man looked down in disgust at a writhing figure at his feet, his long blonde hair and flashing golden eyes reflected in the hot desert sun leaking through the high palace window. He stood motionless, folding his newly acquired arms as he waited for her cries to die down.

"Really," he said mildly, "your foolish outbursts are only convincing me more that I have done the right thing."

After a moment of gasping and trembling, the tortured girl lifted tear-stained eyes and locked her gaze on him, "W-why? Why would you create us only to do this?" Her gaze darted around her at the blood and body parts littering the floor.

The man with the gold hair did not reply, taking his gore-crusted weapon and plunging it into the girl's side. She screamed again, grabbing the sharp metal she desperately tried to lift it away, but all she managed was to cut her hands on the blade. The man twisted the weapon, and she could feel the blood well up in her throat. She turned her head to the side, coughing and spluttering red liquid everywhere.

"I am not going to kill you the same way I killed the others," he informed her, and lifted the weapon out of her.

The girl shuddered, clutching her side as red sparks enveloped her. Her wounds sealed closed, but she did not make another attempt to stand. She did not even bother to speak again.

"I have a more satisfying way of dealing with you," the man whispered harshly, "Tell me…how long do you think it will take for you to starve?"


	2. South Bound

~Present Day Amestris~

"General Mustang, sir!"

"What is it Colonel Hawkeye?" Mustang glanced up from the stack of papers on his desk.

"The Elric brothers are here as you requested."

He nodded, "Send them in."

Mustang wasted no time in going back to his paperwork. Who knew going up this far in the ranks would also mean so much busy work? It probably would not be so bad if those homunculi had not left such a huge mess to clean up after.

"You've done well for yourself," a sarcastic voice came from the doorway.

The general looked up to see a young man leaning on the doorpost. His braided, blonde hair was longer, so it hung over one shoulder, but his golden eyes still flashed mischievously.

"Fullmetal," Mustang nodded curtly looking him up and down, "You've finally grown."

The young man grinned, "It's about time, right? Since I only have to eat for me now, my body finally decided to catch up with the rest of the world."

"Hi there, general!" a second young man with much shorter hair and broader features peeked around the first, "Long time, no see!"

"And Alphonse. I am glad the two of you could make it. You are hard to get ahold of now that you aren't in the military," Mustang cocked an eyebrow.

"Oh, you know…we've been busy. Haven't we Ed?"

Ed grinned, "Did you really expect us to sit around? Al and I aren't the type to sit around and collect dust."

General Mustang laughed, "I suppose not, which is why I ordered the decoration ceremony to take place early. I would not want you to feel like you were collecting dust."

The two looked at one another in confusion, "Decoration ceremony?"

Mustang laced his fingers together, "It's probably not a big deal to you guys, but without you, no one in this country would be alive right now. You are being decorated as war heroes and given an honorary military rank."

"What would we want that for?" Ed yelled.

"Eh heh…what brother means to say is, this is kind of a shock…I mean, we didn't do that much."

"You may have gotten taller, but I see the two of you are still kids," Colonel Hawkeye said as she walked in the room, "You aren't the only ones being honored at this event."

Mustang grinned, "I'm getting decorated too, you know."

"Right…if you get any more medals pinned to that coat of yours, you're going to topple over," Edward said flatly.

"Is that so? Well, we're still waiting to see if you really have grown nearly a foot, or if you're on stilts or something."

"WHY YOU!" Everyone else in the room burst into gales of laughter as Edward Elric seethed.

As the chuckles died down, Hawkeye turned her attention over to Alphonse, "So Al, where have you guys been?"

Now it was Al who was turning red, "Uh…"

Ed, having recovered, put his arm around his brother, "Al's been spending a lot of time in Xing."

"Ah. That's right. You were going there to learn Alkahestry from Mae, weren't you?" said Mustang.

Al blushed even harder, and nodded, "Yeah," he rubbed the back of his head nervously, "She is a great teacher…"

Edward winked at the officers, and they shared a knowing look. It was no secret that Alphonse liked Mae even before she returned with Ling across the desert to their country.

"When is this ceremony supposed to take place anyway? We will need to call and let Winry and Granny Rockbell know, or they would never forgive us," said Ed, changing the subject.

"It will be in about a week. We just need to finish gathering everyone here in Central. We don't need to worry about publicity, because this is going to be a private ceremony. After all, the public does not know what really went on, and as far as we are concerned they don't need to," informed Mustang.

"Every once in a while I still have nightmares about those homunculi…" Riza Hawkeye said.

Ed put a hand up to his shoulder and rubbed it absentmindedly, "You and me both, colonel."

"The good news is, we are done with those vile creatures forever. Our intelligence has scanned high and low for signs of more of those things, and nothing has turned up. Pride is still alive of course, but Mrs. Bradley has him under control," said the general.

"That's great!" said Al, "I am not sure if I could handle anything like that anymore. I am not a suit of armor that can take hits like I used to be."

"We would not call on you to fight if that were the case. You boys have done more than enough for this country," said Mustang.

Ed shrugged, "I am not sure you could keep us out of it. True, I cannot do Alchemy any more, but that I haven't been sitting on my rear feeling sorry for myself. I am much better at fighting than I used to be."

"Really?" asked Hawkeye.

"Yes. I never thought I would see the day that brother could best me in a fight, but I cannot hope to win anymore" said Al cheerfully.

"I even learned how to use a gun," said Ed grinning.

"I am impressed. Maybe I should make that honorary rank an active one and draft you into the military," said Mustang.

"Nah. No one wants to take orders from a seventeen year old kid," said Edward offhandedly.

"You know that there is always a place for both of you here if you ever change your mind."

"Find another Homunculus, and we might just take you up on that offer."

~Meanwhile~

"Just one more…Just one more…Just one more…"

The girl's voice cracked as she repeated the phrase that no one could hear but her. The wind howled ferociously around her, blinding her with the cold, white powder it flung into her face. The blizzard seemed intent on stopping her trek southward. She shivered violently as she forced one foot in front of the other.

"Just one more…Just one more…" she continued. She couldn't think of anything else.

When the looming metal wall appeared in front of her, she did not even slow down. Her mind did not register the change in terrain.

"Just one more…Just one more…Just one more…" she mumbled, numbly to herself.

It was not until she literally could not take another step that her chanting ceased. She stared blankly at the unforgiving steel, and wrapped her worn shawl tighter around her emaciated frame. Blood began to seep through the holes in her shoes and into the snow at her feet.

She looked down and muttered, "This won't do…What to do?...What to do?..." she paused, then sighed, "I go up, I guess."

The girl closed her eyes, furrowing her brow. For several minutes nothing happened. Any passerby would think she had finally succumbed to the elements, and had let herself die. Then, red sparks crackled around her and her body jolted as if shocked. Color returned to her face, and her eyes snapped open.

"Thank you, Lizel…" she said with a much stronger voice, and looked up once more. If she craned her neck she could see the tops of the battlements of the icy fortress.

She considered her options carefully, and shook her head. This could not be any more difficult. After another short pause, a determined look came into her eyes, and she crouched and jumped sailing into the air as though she was jumping from a springboard. She closed her eyes again, concentrating against the force of the wind as she ascended.

About thirty feet into the air she reached the pinnacle that gravity would allow her to reach, but instead of falling back to the ground below, she hovered there with her eyes still closed. She hung there suspended for several moments clenching her fists until blood started to drip from her palm. Agonizingly slow, she began rising once more until she reached the top of the battlement.

She opened her eyes and grinned triumphantly, "I made it!"

"Like hell you did," said a gruff voice.

She lost concentration and crashed hard onto the metal floor. Adrenaline rushed to her veins as she found herself staring into the barrel of a rifle.

"Oh my…" she started, but the soldiers did not let her finish. Another soldier came up from behind and bludgeoned the girl on the back of the neck, knocking her out.

"Call General Armstrong," ordered the one with the gun still pointed at her.

"Yes, sir!" one of the men hurried away.

"And take this thing to the holding cells," he barked. Two other men reached down and grabbed her by the arms to drag her away. "Oh, and be sure to put her in chains. If she is what I think she is, then handcuffs will not be enough to hold her."


	3. Homunculus

~Chapter 2~

General Olivier Armstrong glanced perfunctorily in the mirror as was her habit whenever she left her living quarters. There was not a wrinkle in her blue uniform, not a hair out of place, as usual. She indulged a small smile before turning and striding abruptly away. Within a few seconds she was across the suite and at the door. She made a quick grab for her trench coat which was hanging on a nearby rack, and reached for the silver door handle.

It was then that the phone rang, and the general swore under her breath, "What does that fool want now?"

She took her time making her way around the ornate furniture to get to the offending device, and yanked the receiver up to her ear harshly, "You had better have a d*** good reason for calling me again, Mustang!"

"I am sorry, General Armstrong," came the answer, "You told us to call you if there was a breach in security."

"Major Hart, I know you are new to Briggs, but you did not strike me as incompetent," she said as her compressed together, "I have only been gone for a week."

"Sir," the major continued, as though completely unaffected, "We have captured a homunculus."

The General's annoyance flared higher, "Don't play games with me, major! Those creatures were all killed over a year ago!"

There was a short pause, "I am not playing games, sir. The said homunculus was caught this morning floating over the wall on the Drachma side of the fort. It has been neutralized and put in chains."

So this wasn't a prank call? Olivier calmed down and said in a subdued voice, "Very well. Take every precaution necessary to keep it that way. You will be called with further orders shortly."

"Yes sir!"

General Armstrong slammed down the receiver and marched with a will back to the door. She swung it open, stepped out, and shut it behind her, not even bothering to lock it. Down the hall she went, ignoring the stares as she plowed onward, with people scrambling to get out of her way.

In the crowd of the lobby, she spotted two soldiers lounging near the entrance, so she approached them, "You two," she barked, causing them to jump to attention, "Get me transport to Central Headquarters immediately."

They blinked stupidly at one another. "It could take time to find a taxi," hedged the shorter blonde private.

"Then drive me yourself," she snapped coldly, "Do not give me excuses. If you were one of my men, I would have you scrubbing latrines for a month."

"I-I have a car, ma'am…general…sir!" said the other unfortunate soldier.

"Then stop stammering and go get it."

Despite the scene, Olivier Armstrong was making, few took notice. To passersby the General was just another loud-mouthed, high-handed government official. Let them think that, thought General Armstrong, so much the better.

Major Hart hung up the phone in his office with a sigh. He leaned back in his chair, and drummed fingers on his desk. Talking with General Armstrong in any setting was enough to give anyone a headache, and right now, his was made worse by a head cold he had developed a couple of days ago. Compounding his irritation was the obvious distrust the general and the rest of the Briggs soldiers had for him. He was an outsider here, since he was the first high ranking officer transfer the fort had seen in years. It did not help that his promotion to the rank was recent.

He sighed again, running his fingers over his cropped brown hair. He wondered for at least the fourth time that day what General Mustang was thinking transferring him up to Briggs. He still was not used to the infernal cold, since his last area was on the Southern border fighting against the Aerugan invasion. He was stuck in the desert for three years, for goodness sake! When he finally got pulled out, Hart fully expected to be given an easier job, and perhaps a month or two of leave with his promotion, but no.

There was a brief knock at the door, before a private poked his head in and announced, "The prisoner is awake, sir."

Major Hart stood, and straightened his coat, "Thank you," he said, "I suppose the Brigadier General requires my presence in the brig?"

"Yes, sir."

"Very well," he said.

When Hart entered the brig ten minutes later, he was greeted by the sound of Brigadier General Black's booming voice, "What do you mean by assuming you can show up above our fort, and from the Drachma side, no less! This is Briggs, and Briggs will deal with spies and intruders in the Briggs way!"

The comment was so reminiscent of General Armstrong that Hart had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. Yes, he thought, let's see just how many times we can fit the word Briggs into a sentence. As though that made this place more intimidating than it already was.

Major Hart found it difficult to believe that the pathetic looking creature sitting under the interrogation light was as dangerous as the general was acting. There she-if it was a she-sat, handcuffed, and wrapped tightly in chains. Her long, dark red hair was dripping everywhere now that it was beginning to thaw. She did not speak, and stared down at the smooth wood of the table with her wet hair forming a shroud around her face.

Hart cleared his throat, "General Armstrong has been notified, sir."

The general shifted his attention to you, quirking a haughty eyebrow, "And?"

"We are to detain the homunculus until further notice," he said.

"Cherry," came a small voice.

All the officers in the room stared down at the chained homunculus in surprise. It had relinquished its gaze on the table to fix sapphire blue eyes directly on Major Hart.

"So it is willing to speak to someone," General Black said wryly.

"What was that?" asked Hart, ignoring the General's comment.

"Call me Cherry," said the redheaded homunculus.

The other officers in the room were now gaping at Major Hart instead of the prisoner, and Hart could not help but feel a bit uncomfortable. All he had done was walk in the room.

The Brigadier General looked back and forth between his subordinate and the creature, "Huh! It looks like I was right."

Major Hart, who was still surprised by how directly the creature addressed him, only recovered enough to ask, "Sir?"

"Everybody out!" shouted General Black, "The major will conduct the interrogation!"

The steadily growing crowd at the other entryway began to disperse, and if it weren't Briggs, Major Hart was sure there would have been some grumbling involved. Everyone wanted a look at the detainee.

"May I ask what this is about, General?" asked the perplexed major above the noise of retreating military boots hitting the metal stairs.

"It appears that your soft temperament will come in handy after all. Apparently, she won't speak to 'mean people'," he answered with a sneer, "Sound the alarm if it tries anything funny." He did not give the major a chance to reply, pushing past him he slammed the door in his wake.

Now the Major really did roll his eyes, "Good grief," he muttered.

He turned back to the creature, who was still watching him unblinking. He fought the urge to shudder. Why did he get the impression the self-proclaimed "Cherry" could see into his soul? There was a long moment of silence and neither of them moved. Finally, reluctantly, Major Hart took the seat across from the homunculus, and gave a long sigh.

"Let's get this over with," he said grudgingly. Hart hated interrogating prisoners, and he was definitely not looking forward to this. He still could not get over the fact that the "person" in front of him was not human. Still, he put on his best poker face, and proceeded, "Why did you break into Briggs?"

She continued to stare.

He waited a moment before trying again, "Why are you here?"

The staring continued.

Another pause, "What do you hope to accomplish?"

Still nothing…

"Who are you working for?"

…

"Where did you come from?"

…

"Are there more of you?"

This time, the dark red tresses swayed back and forth as the prisoner shook her head.

The Major frowned slightly, "Does that mean, no, there are no more homunculi, or no, you will not answer?"

The homunculus only blinked and continued its blank stare in Hart's direction.

Major Hart leaned back, averting his gaze momentarily. Cherry's eyes were unsettling, and he needed a moment to collect himself. He made a small noise of exasperation, "I can see why the General was yelling."

The two locked gazes once more, and sat in silence as the seconds ticked by. Perhaps, simply waiting would do the trick.

After several minutes, a look of confusion crossed the homunculus' delicate features, "You are not going to threaten me?"

She-it-had spoken so softly, Hart was not sure he actually heard right, "Excuse me?" he asked.

Cherry cleared her throat and said, "You are not going to hit me, or wave your gun in my face?" she nodded her head in the direction of the holster by Major Hart's side.

Hart folded his arms, "Did it work before?"

"No."

"Then why bother?" he asked.

Cherry shrugged as much as her chains would allow, and looked back down at the table, "You are kind."

Hart chuckled drily, "That is not much of a compliment in this place."

More silence followed for a moment before the homunculus chose to speak again, "Please understand," she spoke into the table, "I cannot tell you why I am here."

"Why is that?"

She looked up, "I need to go to Central. There is someone there I must speak to."

"Will you tell me who that might be?"

"I cannot," she said, and looked up. Major Hart was surprised to see tears running down the homunculus' cheeks.

The Major had kept a carefully blank mask on throughout this, but he could not help but feel sorry for the homunculus. The hard crease above his forehead softened, and he relaxed his shoulders, "Why are you putting yourself through this?" he asked softly.

Cherry choked back a sob, "It is the right thing to do."

The Brigadier General listened to the entire exchange from the loudspeaker in front of him, frowning in disapproval. The Major was certainly pushing the ticket with protocol…but still, the creature was talking. He shook his head and placed one of his large fists under his chin.

This creature was nothing like the ones he had encountered before. It was not the arrogant, black eyed villain he was used to seeing. Well, at least he was pretty sure…He thought back to all the homunculi he knew. Furher Bradley… that Ling kid… the fat one… there was the one that dressed like a girl in a mini skirt… then the big one that kept saying "Such a pain!" Yep, all of them definitely had black hair and eyes. Plus there was the annoying superiority complex that this one seemed to be lacking. Well, it was buried pretty deep anyway.

Even more perplexing was that Major Hart's wishy-washy interrogation style actually worked. Never in Black's experience did that sort of thing produce results, yet here was this green officer showing…genuine sympathy of all things. How could the naïve fool feel anything for that thing? Didn't he remember his briefing about the homunculi? Every single one of them were heartless, human-killing machines. His frown deepened. The chump would have to learn sooner or later that his kindness complex was going to get him killed up at Briggs.

Well, General Armstrong would either stomp it out of him, or he would die like so many others had.

~Later that Day~

"Brother, wait up!" Al said, as he picked up his feet. A few soldiers paused in their work as the two blonde young men walked speedily down the corridor to General Mustang's office, and they smiled remembering old times.

When they reached the door to Mustang's office Alphonse reached from behind to knock, but Ed had already opened it and started in. Al quickly followed, letting the door shut behind him.

Mustang looked up from his work, "To what do I owe this visit?"

"You're postponing the decoration ceremony!" said Edward.

"That is correct, Fullmetal. I am guessing from the looks on your faces that you already know why."

"A homunculus…" fumed Edward.

Mustang rolled his eyes, "It is just as difficult as ever to keep you out of things you have no business knowing about."

"It is kind of impossible not to hear when General Armstrong is giving specifics from the ladies room. You might consider removing the duct between the men and women's bathroom, General," said Al, "You're just lucky that Brother was the only one in there."

"I'll make a note of it," Mustang said sarcastically, "That does not explain why you barged into my office."

Edward slouched onto a nearby chair and stared out the small window over the General's shoulder, "It is just so hard to believe."

"You yourself told us there weren't any more to be found," said Alphonse.

Mustang shook his head, "I said that none had been found. Now there has, and the ceremony is being suspended so I can go with General Armstrong to inspect the creature myself."

"But we were done! They were all taken care of!" yelled Ed.

"Calm down, Fullmetal. We aren't even sure how much of a threat this creature is…or if there isn't some sort of mistake. We need to confirm this."

"How can you sit there so calmly!" yelled Edward.

"Just because you are a civilian now doesn't give you any right to yell at me, Fullmetal. Kindly remember your place," Mustang said in an even tone.

"When the hell did I ever speak to you any different?" he muttered.

"Why is it you have to go? Couldn't they just bring it here, or wait until after the ceremony?" asked Alphonse reasonably.

The General considered the younger brother's request before answering, "Aside from the two of you, I am probably the only State Alchemist you can find who knew so much about homunculi. Even common soldiers who saw the fallout with Father knew what was going on, and of those few only a handful even understood the significance of that knowledge. The men in my private circle did not understand everything…Colonel Hawkeye being the exception, of course. As for your other question, I don't think I need to answer that."

"I had not thought of that. Marcoh passed away didn't he? So that leaves you to accompany General Armstrong…What about us?" asked Ed.

"Brother has a point. We know just as much as you do, General Mustang, sir," Al supplied.

"You aren't part of the military anymore, remember? Civilians aren't allowed in Briggs. The only reason we made an exception with Alphonse the first time was because of the tenable need for the two of you to stay together."

"That makes sense," said Al.

"Man! It's so frustrating to be out of the loop," said Edward, putting his hands behind his head.

General Mustang chuckled, "I could still draft you."

"Heh heh…No thank you, sir," said Alphonse waving his hands in front of him.

"But you will let us know if it is anything serious, won't you?" inquired Edward seriously.

The General stood, "I'll think about it. If nothing else, you will be informed that there is a situation. You would be able to choose from there whether you want to get involved with the military again, or not."

"Well, we hope it doesn't come to that," said Alphonse gravely, "Brother and I have grown rather fond of peace and quiet."

"We all have," agreed Mustang, "and if all goes well, it will stay that way."


	4. Transport

**Okay. This chapter gets a bit more...actiony...I am not sure if that is even a word, but whatever. It is interesting...With the way I made Major Hart, I could almost turn this into a love story between him and Cherry instead of Mustang and Cherry. It isn't going to happen though. I hope that everyone enjoys this chapter.**

Chapter 3:

"Sir, are you sure this isn't going a bit overboard?" asked Major Hart, "The prisoner has made no move to escape from the time she woke up three days ago."

Brigadier General Black quirked an eyebrow, "Are you questioning my methods, soldier?"

Hart drew himself to his full height and looked his superior in the eye. Even so, he was at least six inches shorter, since he barely cleared six feet, "With all due respect, yes, I am. I know the homunculi are dangerous, but she has had nothing to eat and those chains around her are giving her frostbite. She's wearing rags, sir!"

The general threw back his head and laughed, "You really are a sentimental fool!"

"I don't think it's funny," said Hart seriously, "This kind of cruelty is uncalled for. We did not even consider the use of such extreme measures with prisoners of war in the South."

"Those prisoners of war were not homunculi," he countered, still chortling.

Major Hart took a deep calming breath, *It isn't as though I expected him to actually listen,* he thought ruefully. "At least let me take her some water," he requested softly.

The General sat back in his chair and rubbed the stubble on his oversized chin, "You've got more guts than I thought you had, I'll give you that. You don't even care about what your association with that creature is doing to your career or reputation, do you?"

The Major's jaw clenched as he fought the urge to punch him, "I was not aware that I had a reputation worth mentioning in the first place."

"That is a valid point…" said General Black, "Go ahead and cater to your new little friend. Just know any fallout that may occur because of your actions will be your punishment to bear."

Major Hart saluted, careful not to show the relief on his face, "Thank you sir."

He spun on his heel to leave the General's quarters, ignoring the fresh peals of laughter coming from his superior. Let him laugh. He be d***** if he let Cherry suffer the way she was any longer.

Major Stephen Hart had been sent in twice more to interrogate the homunculus, not that he got any more information out of her than he had the first day. He had hoped that asking about inconsequential things would get her tongue loosened enough to let something important slip. No such luck. He did learn that she was called Cherry for her blood-red hair and she liked violin music, but that didn't help at all.

He frowned, remembering her parting words to him just the day before, "Thank you."

"Why are you thanking me? I'm the one assigned to squeeze information out of you."

Then the homunculus did something that startled Major Hart. She smiled. She actually smiled and said, "Thank you for not hurting them more than they already are."

"Who?"

"The friends inside me."

That was when Major Hart decided to do something about the way Cherry was being treated. He could not stand the idea that the people inside her could feel the abuse that she did. He could not explain that to anyone at Briggs, though.

He collected a bowl of hot oatmeal—it was breakfast this morning in the mess hall—and a canteen of hot water, and went down to the brig.

Major shivered a little in his coat. Temperatures had plummeted overnight, and he could feel it soaking through all the layers of his clothing. Just thinking of that made him open the door faster and hurry as quickly as he could to Cherry's cell. She must be freezing.

"Cherry," he called out as he reached her cell block. She was laying on her side with her legs dangling over the edge of her narrow cot at an angle the major would not have considered comfortable. Then again, when you are wrapped in thick chains from head to foot, nothing was probably comfortable.

"Cherry," the major called a bit louder.

She still did not respond, which was alarming. Tucking the water canteen under the crook of his elbow, Major Hart hastily pulled out the key to her cell door and fumbled until the lock was open. The door creaked open, and he rushed inside, setting the food and drink aside.

He lifted her roughly back to a sitting position, "Cherry!" he shouted shaking her.

She opened her eyes sluggishly, and parted her lips, "Major?...What are you doing here?...Is it time for interrogations already?"

The major cursed and removed his coat, draping it around her shoulders, "Your lips are blue!" he cursed again, "Why didn't you tell anyone you were cold?"

The homunculus' voice cracked in a humorless laugh, "Do you really think it would have made a difference? They know what I am…" her eyes rolled into the back of her head, and she started to fall over again.

"Oh, no you don't!" said Major Hart grabbing her shoulder, and holding her still, "I don't care if you can regenerate, you will not die of hypothermia under my watch!"

When she did not answer, he drew his hand back and slapped her hard in the face. She jarred awake, gasping and shuddering.

"There you go. You fight it!" he said severely. He reached down for the water, unscrewed the lid on the canteen, and put it up to her lips, "Drink," he commanded.

She gave token resistance, spluttering and coughing, but the major did not remove it until she got down three big gulps. She coughed and shook her head, blinking rapidly.

Judging that she was finally awake enough to eat, Hart reached down for the cooling bowl of oatmeal. When he was once again eye level with Cherry, she was gaping at him. He ignored it and dipped a small spoon into the sugary mush.

"You should not be helping me," she said sadly before accepting the spoon in her mouth, "Ah…" she sighed blissfully, "I have not tasted sugar in so long."

Major Hart continued to feed the homunculus and give her drinks of water in intervals. It was slow going, so by the time Cherry was getting to the bottom of the bowl, the major was shivering hard with cold. He had no intention of removing his coat from her though. She needed it more than he did.

Right then the door to the brig banged open, and Hart had to repress the urge to stand and greet whoever it was properly. Instead, he spooned out another bite of oatmeal for Cherry.

"Well, now," said a gruff female voice, "What is it you are doing Major?"

Major Hart did not even bother to look up even with the look of alarm that came over Cherry's face, "I am feeding the prisoner, General Armstrong, sir."

More steps followed behind the General, "Why is its cell open? And why is it so blasted cold down here!"

Now Major Hart did stop short, he turned to see General Mustang come up behind General Armstrong, so he stood, and saluted them both, "Generals," he said deferentially.

"What is the meaning of this Major Hart?" asked General Armstrong blankly.

Major Hart could tell that she was angry, but he had no intention of apologizing, "The homunculus was in no condition for further interrogation, sir. I was solving that problem."

"You can leave now, soldier," said Armstrong, "I'll speak with you in my office later."

Major Hart paused, stealing a glance at Cherry. Her face was drawn, and she looked like she was trying not to cry.

"You better take your coat," she said.

He huffed, "Don't be ridiculous. It isn't that cold," he marched proudly out of the cell, and up the stairs.

After he had gone, General Armstrong muttered, "I might just shoot him. What gave you the audacity to send that soft fool up here, Mustang?"

Mustang was not listening. He was too busy inspecting the homunculus who was staring up at him. Olivier almost snapped at General Mustang again, but thought better of it looking back and forth between the two of them.

Cherry was trembling hard, and her blue eyes were as wide as her eyelids would allow. What little color that had returned under Major Hart's care fled entirely making the layers of grime stand out in stark contrast.

"You…" she said hoarsely, "How could it be you?...I-It is impossible!"

Mustang's surprise was fleeting, and then he hardened, "I see you know who I am."

"You know this creature?" asked General Armstrong sharply.

"No," said Mustang shaking his head, "I have never seen this one before. Trust me; I would have remembered hair such an abnormal color."

"Huh…I suppose you are right. I cannot help but think it looks more like a demon than a homunculus," said General Armstrong skeptically.

Mustang opened his mouth to reply, but General Armstrong drew her sword reflexively and plunged the tip into Cherry's head.

"General!" shouted Mustang.

"Don't act so shocked Mustang," she said conversationally, "We came here to see if this brat really was a homunculus. If she isn't, well, she just paid for trespassing as a spy. If she is, losing one life will not kill her." The General yanked her sword out and flicked the blood off, returning it to the sheath at her side.

At first nothing happened and General Mustang felt paradoxically relieved and angered. Relieved because she must not have been a homunculus after all, and angered because General Armstrong had just killed the girl in cold blood.

"That settles…" started General Armstrong, but she stopped short. Red sparks encompassed the prisoner, and Cherry gasped and shuddered back to life. She fell forward off her cot, trembling at the feet of the two officers.

"I'm so sorry Maro," she said through clenched teeth.

Back in General Armstrong's office, the two of them discussed what to do with the homunculus.

"I want that creature out of Briggs," equivocated Armstrong.

"Have you forgotten the homunculus wants to go to Central?" asked Mustang.

"Does it look like I care?"

A knock came to the door, and Colonel Hawkeye walked through, "I finished briefing with Brigadier General Black and Major Hart," she informed.

"And?" asked General Mustang.

"Their reports conflict," she said, "Major Hart is under the impression that the homunculus, whom he referred to as 'Cherry', is no real threat to us. General Black said, and I quote, 'Kill the thing. Just the fact that it lives is enough to inspire fear.'" The colonel also gave what little information the Briggs soldiers managed to extract from the prisoner.

"It cried?" asked Mustang in confusion.

"That is what I was informed, sir," said Hawkeye.

"Ha! How weak," sneered General Armstrong.

Mustang leaned back, rubbing the stubble that grew on his chin, "Nothing about this…Cherry, did you say?" Hawkeye nodded so he continued, "Nothing about this 'Cherry' makes sense. Her hair color, demeanor, name, and etcetera are all wrong."

"I am not sure how it matters," said Armstrong, "A homunculus is a homunculus however you shake it."

The three of them lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. General Armstrong was the picture of indifference, Colonel Hawkeye watched General Mustang expectantly, and Mustang himself weighed his options with his hand still on his chin.

At length, Mustang spoke, "We will take the homunculus with us to central. If nothing else there will be more alchemists to stand guard in case it does try anything."

The next day Mustang, Hawkeye, Armstrong and a small contingent of Briggs soldiers prepared to leave the fortress. Major Stephen Hart was also brought along after it was made clear that Cherry cooperated better with him around.

"Don't think this means you are off the hook, soldier," General Armstrong had told him curtly.

Hart was not surprised. He fully expected to be demoted and possibly transferred. He knew he was black-listing himself the moment he stepped foot into Cherry's cell to feed her. It did not matter to him. His conscience was clear.

Deciding how to transport the prisoner was difficult, as no one wanted to remove the chains on her legs. It was Major Hart who convinced the others to let her walk, reasoning that she wanted to get to central anyway.

"Why would she try to escape?" he asked with a shrug, "Travelling with the military is much faster than going on foot like she was before."

Grudgingly they agreed, and compensated for the lack of restraint on her legs by wrapping the rest of the chain around her torso.

"Try anything, homunculus, and I'll kill you before you ever reach Central," threatened General Armstrong.

Everything was going well. Cherry made no attempts to struggle as the group wound their way down the mountainside, and the weather itself was amenable...at least it was for the first hour. As it happened so often on Amestris' northern border, the weather shifted violently. Thick, black clouds gathered and the wind picked up until it was howling as strong as the Briggs soldiers had ever experienced.

"How long until we reach the military outpost?" shouted Hawkeye above the gale.

"There is no way we can make it through a storm this bad!" screamed Mustang in response. He half expected the Briggs soldiers to argue since they were used to this sort of thing, but the storm was bad even by their standards.

"Quickly!" shouted one of the soldiers, "There is an old outpost nearby! It will at least protect us from the wind while we wait out the storm!"

BOOM!

Rumbling followed the din, and grew steadily louder with each passing second.

"AVALANCHE!" shouted General Armstrong, "EVERYBODY MOVE!"

No one needed to be told twice as they scrambled to follow the soldier heading for the supposed shelter. It was not as far away as some thought it was. It had been well disguised in the storm. Everyone tumbled into the confined space with Major Hart dragging Cherry with him in the rear, and not a moment too soon. A giant wave of snow and ice crashed into the structure causing the wooden beams to splinter under the weight.

"Everyone brace the roof!" ordered General Mustang. Men scrambled to obey, and even the two Generals moved to help the men. Cherry cowered, forgotten behind them all.

None of their efforts mattered. The support beams continued to groan and crack under the weight of the pounding snow.

"We'll never make it!" shouted one of the soldiers fearfully. Nevertheless, each individual redoubled their efforts, causing their muscles to shake under the strain.

Finally Cherry spoke up, "I am truly sorry about this!" she shouted, and then with a quick heave of her arms, she snapped the chains that held her bound.

**I tried very hard to find a picture that would do Miss Cherry justice, but was completely unsuccessful...So I made one of my own! ^o^ I hope it actually showed up on here... Granted it isn't a prerfect rendering, but I had limited resources, and I am no good at drawing that sort of thing myself. :P**


	5. Living Contradiction

_**Sorry it took me so long to get this out. Working on two stories at once, plus finals, plus church responsibilities, plus deep cleaning my apartment had me pretty occupied. :P Anywho, the chapter is up, and I hope that those of you who were waiting for the update can forgive its lateness. **_

_**Let me give a little info on my OC, miss Cherry. I tried to model her personality after my sister who is just about the kindest, sweetest, most genuine human being alive, and yes, she will bend over backwards to help others even at her own expense. I have my reasons for making Cherry this way, which you will discover soon. Heh heh...Of course I cannot give too much away. There would be no point to the story if you had everything handed to you on a silver platter. **_

_**I included more of the thoughts and actions of Mustang and Cherry this time around, and I will be bringing the two of them closer together soon...very very soon.**_

_**Keep reading. Enjoy! ...and be sure to give me feedback. Feedback is an aspiring writer's best friend. :D**_

_**Disclaimer: I am sure other people would attack me if they found out I somehow owned a share of FMA and didn't spread the wealth. Don't hurt me! I'm just as owner-less as the rest of you!**_

Chapter 4

Roy Mustang clenched his teeth hard as he fought to push the collapsing roof forward. Every muscle in his body was drawn so taut that he felt as if something would snap at any moment.

It occurred to him that if he had decided to bring the Elric brothers along, they would not be in this predicament. Sure Edward would have been useless, but Alphonse had full use of his alchemy. His flames were no good in this situation.

"We'll never make it!" you heard one of the Briggs cadets yell as the roof gave another shuddering crack.

The fear in the soldier's voice shook through every heart including Mustang's and survival instincts kicked in. Several men yelled and grunted as they pressed more desperately against the onslaught of roaring snow, ice, and debris.

Everyone, including Roy, was so focused on keeping the roof from falling in that when Cherry's voice broke over the din they faltered momentarily, causing more of the support beams to break.

"I am truly sorry about this!" she shouted.

Mustang whipped his head around in time to see the red-haired homunculus clamber to her feet and push her arms forward breaking the thick length of chain wrapped around her as if it were made of paper.

*Impossible!* he thought gaping.

Cherry wasted no time moving forward.

"Sir, look out!" screamed Hawkeye, "It's headed right for you!"

She was right. Cherry was making a beeline toward him, and there was nothing he could do. He was too close to the center of the falling roof. If he let go they were all dead. Several shots rang through the air, adding to the commotion, as Hawkeye and several other soldiers attempted to haphazardly hold the roof with one hand to shoot at Cherry. The homunculus did not even bother to pause as they hit her vital points.

"Argh!" shouted Mustang as another heavy wave hit.

This time the strain was too much. With several people now focusing on shooting Cherry and not bracing it, there was not enough support for the beams to hold the collapsing lean-to roof. The weight of it wrenched his arms backwards and he fell on his back.

He tensed, closing his eyes, as he anticipated the crushing force of the falling timber…but it never came. Mustang's eyes snapped open to see red sparks dancing around the small body of the homunculus, her scarlet tresses blowing backward with the force of the energy flowing out of her body. She was standing right over him with her feet digging into the packed ground on either side of his face.

Cherry was screaming as her thin arms, locked at the elbows, single-handedly held the precarious structure at bay.

"I. Will. Not. Let. You. DIE!" she screeched.

Mustang jolted at the intensity in her voice. He was not the only one who was surprised. Every soldier now littering the ground of the small enclosure stared at Cherry as she slowly pushed the roof back to its original position and held it there for another minute before earth stopped trembling, and the cascading snow came to a halt.

It was a moment before anyone stirred. The men shifted uncomfortably and began to whisper amongst themselves. Cherry shuddered slightly as the last of the sparks crackled and faded, then she grunted and heaved the roof forward, knocking the snow off before returning it to its original position.

She turned her head sheepishly to see the soldiers gaping at her, "Um…I am sorry to ask this…but could someone get something to brace the roof? My arms are a little tired…"

"Well, snap to it, men!" said Colonel Hawkeye, having been the first to recover.

As they busied themselves, Cherry stepped to one side of Mustang. She rolled her shoulders, and dropped one of her hands, easily holding the structure in position.

She blushed and looked down at General Mustang, "I am terribly sorry I scared you like that… you were just in the best spot…"

Mustang scooted back, but remained sitting, unsure of how to respond.

General Armstrong responded for all of them, "You have been able to break out of those chains this entire time, haven't you?"

Cherry flushed a deeper crimson, "Sorry…" she mumbled.

"Why would you do that?" asked the thunderstruck Hart.

"I just…well…you see…" Cherry faltered, but the officers waited expectantly, "I just wanted you to feel safer," she said in a rush.

"So you are saying you allowed yourself to be captured, chained, tortured, nearly starved, and frozen because you did not want us to feel unsafe?" said Major Hart flatly.

"I'm sorry," Cherry said again, "You can chain me up again if you like…I won't break out. I promise."

They continued to gape at her, unbelieving.

"This has got to be the most pathetically masochistic creature I have ever seen," muttered General Armstrong drily.

They did not chain Cherry again. There really was no point to it since Cherry was obviously stronger than any homunculus they encountered before. Not even Sloth could have withstood them.

The soldiers still stayed as far away from her as possible with the exception of Colonel Hawkeye and Major Hart. Hawkeye now agreed with Hart's testimony that the girl was harmless.

"I sense no murderous intent from Cherry like I did with Pride and Bradley," she stated simply, "Besides, she did just save our lives."

Hart and Hawkeye walked on either side of the homunculus when the weather finally permitted the group to move again and they occasionally tried to engage her in conversation with limited success.

No one spoke much. The overall mood of the men left an uncomfortable pall on the march. Everyone was torn between mistrust and fear for the homunculus and awe at her strength when she saved them. Mustang was glad for the silence. He needed to think. What exactly was this girl? She was a homunculus, true, but she was so diametrically opposite from any other he had come across.

Homunculi were supposed to be murderous, volatile, cruel, selfish, uncaring, proud… everything Cherry was not ...that is what it seemed anyway. The timid creature did not seem like she could so much as step on a bug without feeling sorry about it. For goodness sake, she said sorry so many times since the avalanche, it was giving him a headache.

Then there was the fact that Cherry knew who he was. Roy shook his head, puzzling. He would swear he had never met, seen, or even heard of her before, so how was it she knew him? Could it be that his reputation had reached as far north as Drachma? No…that did not make sense. General Armstrong was the infamous one there. He would understand better if the girl had come from the south more toward Ishbal. That was where his fame sprung.

*I will just have to speak to her on my own,* concluded Mustang. There really was no other way to get to the bottom of things. Perhaps he would bring Major Hart along for good measure, since Cherry was on such good terms with the man.

Cherry could not believe her luck. Not only did she get to move about the train unrestrained, but she actually had food—real cooked food!—brought to her. It was late at night, and the small bowl of oatmeal Major Hart spoon fed her had long since worked its way out of her system. It took all herself control not to scarf the meal down. Instead she gingerly held her fork and savored the small chunks of roast beef, vegetables and mashed potatoes. She could not help but moan in delight at the small piece of chocolate cake.

*Ambrosia…* she thought in ecstasy.

What she did not know was that General Mustang was on the other side of the door watching her. He had dismissed the two soldiers that were left to keep an eye on Cherry, and stood outside observing her through the small, rectangular window.

She was deliberately placed in the rear car where she would be isolated from the other passengers, and where she could be dealt with if she did decide to snap and attack everyone after all.

Mustang rolled his eyes, *Yeah, like that will happen.*

Cherry was true to her word so far. When they reached the military base at the foot of the mountains she walked right in without a fuss. She even renewed her offer to let them chain her up again.

Honestly, the only reason she was brought down to the brig until passage on the train could be secured was for appearance sake. The higher ups were informed they had a homunculus in custody and were on high alert.

They put a coat with a hood on to cover Cherry's flaming hair, and snuck her on board the back so no one would notice her. The only ones, aside from himself, who knew she was here, were General Armstrong, Major Hart, Colonel Hawkeye, and two of the soldiers that accompanied them from Briggs. Everyone else was sent back to the fort, since they were no longer needed.

Cherry, now that she was finished with her meal, was exploring her compartment. She ran her hands over the smoothly carved wood on the seats, and touched the glass on the window with obvious admiration.

"You don't have to guard Cherry, you know," came Hawkeye's voice from the opposite doorway.

Mustang smirked, and glanced over his shoulder, "Why should I let the underlings have all the fun?"

Riza Hawkeye huffed, "Only you would think that way about a half starved urchin."

Mustang chuckled, "I like exotic things."

"So you consider red hair exotic?"

"Definitely."

Riza resisted the urge to roll her eyes at her superior, "Whatever. I'm going back up with the other officers."

"You do that."

"Oh, and General?" said Hawkeye when she was halfway out the door, "Be gentle with her."

Mustang did not respond. His attention was back on Cherry.

"Be gentle with her…" he muttered, "Perhaps…"

Roy Mustang did allow himself a small smile. Riza Hawkeye knew him too well. Mustang wanted answers, and he was not sure he wouldn't stoop to baser means to get them. They still had not established Cherry's motives, nor whether it was truly safe to trust her.

His jaw hardened. He would do what he had to do…but not tonight. He was still working up a strategy to get her to talk, which was why he was observing her alone like this. If he could get a better idea of how she acted alone, he might get an idea.

Meanwhile, Cherry sighed heavily. She knew now she was being watched, and by whom.

*Well, it is not as if I expected him to trust me,* she thought sadly.

Not that that mattered. When He got ahold of her, she would be lucky to live long enough to get a word in. All she needed was five minutes, then he could kill her, and this time she would not try to run away.

_**(Sing-song voice) I love intricate plots! ... No worries though. I will start revealing my hand in the next few chapters.** _


End file.
